Candle light burning bright,
tall and proud, eyes of fire...
Passion burning through the core,
the wick is charred with time.
Liquid flesh falls off and runs,
wrinkles... of memories... ripples.
Fire burning, burning, burning,
wax, wick, blobs, blood, dreams.
Complicated accumulation conducting
representations intimately focusing on actuality.
Days are running short,
short running, are days.
Melted away by passion,
death by enlightenment.
Puff of smoke... Death is here.
Burnt out after many years.
Here lies a once tall light.
Now melted away, no resemblance in sight.
How the choice was to put up a fight.
How the choice was to live life so bright.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem